Giving Up Things For You is My Job
by CompassionAndCaring
Summary: Four years ago, a car crash killed their mother Mary. Both brothers and their father survived, but the impact caused massive head trauma to Dean, giving him permanent brain damage. This is the story of how two brothers live their dysfunctional lives.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Supernatural or its characters. Warnings for bullying/ableism in this! **

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Sam loved his brother till the end of the Earth, and would go to hell and back for him. After all they've been through, it was hard not to love his sweet, fragile, and over-protective older brother.

Their dad wasn't around much, usually away on business or with Bobby, their in-a-way uncle. Sometimes John would be gone for days, but with Bobby checking in on them frequently and Sam's forced maturity, both younger Winchesters were fine.

School here was a bit rough, everyone in town knew about Dean, and deemed Sam as 'the retard's brother'. Usually people left Sam alone...but there was always that one occasional bully that would torture Sam for a few weeks before moving on. But Sam focused on school, constantly being at the top of his class and studying for hours if he could. He wanted to become a lawyer, and then with his money he could buy a house for him and Dean to live in.

And everything would be perfect.

Tonight so far consisted, of an absent father and a pile of homework. As much as Sam liked being in high school, he didn't particularly like the boatloads of work that came with it. But the sooner he got it done, the more time he could spend with Dean, who was dividing his attention between staring hopefully at Sam across the kitchen table, begging for attention, or unconsciously playing with his toy cars.

"Sammy, look! Baby is winning the race," Dean exclaimed, driving the smaller replica of John's '67 Impala to the invisible finish line, beating the unmoving toy fire truck a few inches away. Dean loved their dad's car, calling it 'Baby' respectively and sometimes he would watch John do repairs on it. Dean couldn't do it himself of course...but maybe someday he could.

Prying his eyes off his math homework, Sam smiled at Dean, giving him the attention and approval Dean wanted and needed, "Awesome." Dean giggled, green eyes sparkling with love and innocence. Sam felt his heart tug a bit, but looked away and tried to direct his attention back to the calculus he was working on, before Dean spoke again.

"Can I help, Sammy? It looks really hard."

Sam smiled and shook his head, "No. It's alright, Dean. Just go back to your cars. Try and see who's going to win this time."

Dean nodded, and went back to his race, making the appropriate noises of screeching tires and the roar of an engine. Sam was going to remind Dean of using his inside voice, but decided not to, since his older brother looked so happy off in his own little world.

In the past five years since the car accident that killed their mom and left Dean like this, Sam grew to know more about him then John, Bobby, and Dean himself combined. When Sam first realized that Dean would forever be a child in a man's body, he quickly accepted the caretaker/brother role.

At first he was furious, knowing that his brother would never be able to have the life he deserved. But Sam had calmed down, knowing that being angry at the world would get him nowhere. It never did.

The damage inflicted on Dean rendered him mental capacity of a six-year-old, or at least that's what Sam remembered the doctor tell him and John that night after the accident. His whole personality was childish: too trusting, and too friendly.

That wouldn't bother Sam as much if he didn't know how many people out there would take advantage of Dean's condition and hurt him. So Sam had made Dean promise to never talk to strangers and always be careful. Always.

But that didn't mean much, since Dean never really went anywhere except the grocery store, the backyard behind their house, or Bobby's house and scrap yard. And even then Sam was with him, since Dean tended to get lost quite a bit or would stumble over something on his uncoordinated legs.

That was another thing, the head injury affected Dean's fine motor skills. Walking was a challenge often, Dean's legs were shaky and wobbled a lot. After many falls and scraped knees, he learned to stop running, unless he was excited about something or absolutely had to. He would never want to bother Sam when he toppled over, saying 'It okay, Sammy. I getting up.'

Sam likes to think a small part of Dean is unaffected by it all. Even though that may not be possible.

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**I don't really know on whether or not to just keep this as a one-shot or whatever. Or maybe make it a multi-chapter fic. Or just a series of oneshots surrounding this AU. Tell me what you'd guys like in the comment/review section please! Thank you! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you Guest Sarah for your review! Also I'd like to thank those of you who followed this story! It means a lot. I do love writing this story so far and I'm glad you like it too! Rate and review please!**

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It took about two hours for Sam to finish his homework, and he felt a bit horrible for making Dean wait so long for his undivided attention. But Sam knew that if he didn't get his work done now he never would. And the last thing Sam needed was a detention or a bad grade.

Packing his papers into his backpack, Sam looked up at Dean, who was now sitting absently, staring at his hands, looking slightly lost. Sam again felt his heart tug a bit, feeling that strange sensation of almost drowning whenever he saw Dean like this. Like he just couldn't get out no matter how hard he tried. Looking at the clock, and noticing it was about five, Sam decided that he should get dinner started. He usually cooked for his family, and admittedly he was pretty good.

But that's what you get with lots of practice. Dean couldn't, obviously, also even if he wasn't completely...damaged, he probably wouldn't do it all the time anyways. John never cooked, and they would have pizza or chinese take out on the days he was home.

And being the health nut that Sam was, he didn't really like eating greasy foods constantly, and took up the role as the cook. Dean liked to call what Sam made 'rabbit food' since it usually consisted of fruits and vegetables.

Getting up from the table, Sam peered into the cupboards, not finding much. He would have to go shopping soon, which he dreaded, since he'd usually have to bring along Dean. And as much as he loved his brother, he could be a real pain. Either that or someone would say something.

"Hey, bud. What do you want for dinner?" Sam doesn't even need to look behind him to know that Dean is screwing up his face in concentration, thinking and deciding things were sometimes hard for him, and Sam never pushed it.

"Burgers, Sammy. Please?" Turning around, Sam saw that Dean stared up at him with wide eyes that even he knew that Sam could never say no to.

Sam smiled, "Sure, man." Dean cheered and Sam couldn't help but laugh, he sounded so happy over something so little.

Pulling the raw hamburger out of the fridge and deeming it edible, Sam started to make dinner, also putting some fries into the oven. Sure he didn't really like how there were little to no vegetables or anything healthy so far, but it was for Dean. Sam could just make him eat something better tomorrow. Maybe.

As Sam made dinner, Dean told him all about what happened today while Sam was at school. As much as Sam hated leaving Dean, he had to. He knew that their Dad would be furious if Sam skipped school. Sometimes Bobby could come and stay over to watch Dean but he had his own life too. At school during class Sam could _picture _something bad happening to Dean, as if he'd fall or cut himself on something. Or what if he went outside and got lost in the woods out back? Thinking like this caused anxiety daily for the youngest Winchester.

He had thought about maybe...hiring someone to watch Dean, but he didn't have much money. And they probably wouldn't know what to do when Dean had one of his moods or if anything else happened.

Christmas break was coming up soon, and then Sam could watch Dean and stay with him. To be honest, Sam couldn't wait, he loved Christmas and being away from school sounded wonderful. He didn't know what kind of present he should get for Dean, maybe another toy or something for his room. Either having to do with cars or superheroes, Dean seemed to love that kind of junk.

_Maybe I'll take him out tomorrow, you know...it is almost his favorite holiday after all. He deserves it, we both do, _Sam thought, smiling to himself.

"And then Sammy, I went outside and I saw this bird in the trees. It was really pretty and blue! I tripped on a tree root and fell, but I okay," Dean told him excitedly, eyes bright. Sam froze when he said 'fell' but he didn't press the issue, knowing that Dean really was alright. Every morning before Sam went to school he'd make sure Dean had food to eat in the fridge and knew that he was going to be gone for several hours.

When Sam first started high school Dean had no idea where Sam was and cried for hours. Coming home to a teary-eyed older brother who also had soaking wet clothes from trying to find you outside in the rain is never the best experience for either parties. John wasn't home that day and Dean didn't know how to use the phone to call Bobby. It took Sam two hours to finally calm Dean down and tell him that he would never leave. Ever.

While pulling the fries out of the oven and putting the burgers together, Sam informed, "Dinner's ready, bud. Wash your hands, okay?" Nodding fiercely, Dean ambled over to the bathroom, his legs shaky from sitting down. Hearing the sink turn on and laughter coming from Dean poking the bubbles of soap on his hands, Sam felt like he could really get used to this everyday if need be.

Really, all they needed was each other.

Dinner passed by uneventfully, meaningless chatter and loud chewing the only things you could hear. Wiping the ketchup smeared on Dean's face with a napkin, Sam could help but chuckle, he looked downright adorable.

Dean squirmed in protest, "Nooooo, Sammy." Relenting, Sam rolled his eyes, "Okay. But remember Dean, after we clean up, you and I can do whatever you want for a bit but _then, _you have to take a bath." Dean started to whine but stopped. He knew that doing that would only make it worse.

Cleaning up the table and putting the dishes in the sink, Sam made Dean return to the bathroom to go and also wash his sticky hands again. Once Dean got out of the bathroom and dried his hands, Sam asked, "What do ya want to do?" Dean thought about it for a bit, before lighting up and whispering excitedly, "Can we go outside?"

Sam smiled and nodded, "Sure. Anything you want." Dean squealed happily and went over to hug Sam, "Thanks, Sammy." Letting go and tugging his arm, Dean led Sam out of the house and into the backyard, the grass looking dark in the evening light.


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm so, so sorry for the long wait! Writer's block hit and I couldn't do anything for a while to make it go away. But anyways, enough moping and thank you for the reviews and even more follows! It means a lot, even though I've already said that before. Anyways, here's another chapter and review please and tell me what you think! **

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"Dean! Where are you?" Sam called out frantically into the night, only ten minutes of being outside and Sam already lost him. They were going to just pass a ball around a bit at first, but Dean must have seen something and just..._left._ The setting sun didn't help at all, the fading light making everything outside slightly blurred and misshapen. Even though it was early December, it surprisingly wasn't very cold in Kansas, only cool. So if Dean was really lost, Sam had the small and depressing comfort that at least he wouldn't freeze to death.

_Hopefully,_ Sam thought.

Panic and fear settled in, and Sam searched everywhere near him. Maybe he was overreacting, but who knows what could happen? Their backyard was huge, the woods were dark and ominous, and Dean had a large fondness for walking through them to explore. Sam had no idea where Dean could have gone off to. He couldn't have gone far, since his legs were still wobbly from sitting down for so long., and even then they always were. Sam was on the verge of going into the forest to go find his older brother...

Until a voice that was now music to Sam's ears called back, "Sammy, I over here!" Breathing a sigh of relief and muttering, "Thank God." Sam rushed over to the far edge of the yard to see Dean sitting cross-legged on the grass, bright green eyes gazing up at the treetops, looking for something. Sam sat down next to his brother, and tried to figure out what caught his attention so badly.

"Dean, you know you have to stay near me...right? I was worried sick," Sam huffed, annoyed that Dean hadn't listened to him at all. Dean turned his head to look at Sam and smiled sweetly, apparently not hearing what he said.

Tugging on Sam's arm, Dean pointed at the trees and whispered, "Look at the birds, Sammy! There's a blue one...and a gray one." Squinting his eyes, Sam could see the faint outline of two birds perched in the highest branches. Sam was amazed that Dean could see what colors they were, and silently praised him.

The two brothers sat in silence for a few minutes, before Sam broke it, "Dean...you know that I have to keep an eye on you. I don't want you gettin' lost...okay?" Sam made sure to add a firm tone at the end of his sentence, knowing that otherwise Dean wouldn't listen to him.

Staring at his brother with blank eyes, Dean blinked and nodded, smiling the whole time, which as of lately he seemed to do a lot. Not that it was a bad thing.

"Okay, Sammy. But I have to keep an eye on you...like I supposed to. You're my lil' brother," he mumbled happily, as if there was nothing else in the world more important. Poking Sam hard in the chest, Dean erupted in a fit of giggles and covered his mouth with his hands to muffle the noise. Sam couldn't help but grin, the sight was so..._cute?_ He didn't know what else to call it.

They sat, watching the birds in the trees for a little while, the only sounds were the quiet breeze and the occasional bark from the neighbor's dog. The sun finally went down below the horizon and Sam thought it was time to head back inside, the original plan of him and Dean throwing a ball around now gone.

Pulling himself up to stand, Sam wiped the dirt and grass off his jeans before extending a hand out for Dean to grab hold of. It took Dean a few minutes to notice the hand held out for him, since he continued to gaze up at the trees like something brilliant and amazing would come out.

Sam pulled Dean off the ground, making sure to put his free hand on Dean's back to steady him. Legs even more wobbly then before, it took his older brother a long while to get his feet right on the ground. Sam gave a sad smile and heart sink, seeing how hard it was for Dean, even though his brother didn't seem to be bothered by it.

"Ready, Dean? Free time's over, and now you got to get ready for a bath," Sam stated, making sure Dean was paying attention to what he said.

Dean huffed, "Alright..." Giving him a reassuring smile, Sam lead Dean back inside the house, internally glad that Dean hadn't resisted getting clean.

Bath time wasn't entirely horrible...except for when Sam had accidentally gotten soap in Dean's eyes, making him irritable and teary-eyed. But there had been worse occasions when Sam literally had to push Dean into the tub and force him to sit still.

After getting Dean washed up and clean, Sam made sure that he used the toilet before he got dressed so he wouldn't forget later. Also to brush his teeth, letting Dean this time gargle the mouthwash. Since Sam had helped Dean with bathing himself and other things, he wasn't bothered by seeing him naked. Sure sometimes Sam got embarrassed, but he knew that really there was no other choice.

Drying the remaining water off of Dean with a fluffy towel, Sam grabbed the sleep t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms that he picked out earlier and handed them over. Five minutes later, Dean was fully dressed and ready to go to bed. Drying his hair and spiking it up in the front just the way he liked, Sam grinned widely, proud of his work. Eyes blinking heavily, trying to stay open but failing, Sam was sure it was bedtime for Dean.

"Come on, you gotta get into bed now," Sam told Dean affectionately. Pushing him gently with little protest from Dean, Sam got him into his bedroom and into his bed. Wrapping the blanket around his body and tucking him in, Sam made sure to say good night before shutting off the lights, cloaking the room in shadow.

"Night, Dean. See ya in the morning."

Dean yawned, "Night, Sammy."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews! Warnings for emotional and physical abuse in this chapter. I'm sorry for the lack of plot really in the first three chapters. Just trying to figure out what to do so far. This chapter is in two parts! Side note: Sam is 17 in this fic and Dean is 21, just in case you were wondering. I do not own Supernatural or its characters.**

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Rubbing away the disgusting crust around his eyes from sleep, Sam yawned and stretched his upper body. His eyes felt bleary and heavy. Shaking his head and running a hand through his hair, Sam thought it would be best to probably get his ass out of bed. He had a long day ahead of him, filled with taking care of his brother and who knows what other things fate had in store for him.

Faint light filtered through the gray curtains hanging in front of the small, albeit grimy windows of his room. About the half the size of an average bedroom, Sam didn't really have much space to move around in, which ultimately didn't help the fact that he was still in that awkward teen stage where his limbs didn't quite fit his body.

Originally he did have the larger room, but he had given it to Dean, knowing that his brother possessed more things. Also, having more open room created less of a chance of Dean walking into a dresser, or any other hard/solid piece of furniture.

It was Saturday morning, meaning no school and the opportunity to be somewhat free. Sam's alarm clock read seven-thirty in the morning, and he huffed, thinking it was far later than that. Rummaging his hand through his clean laundry basket, Sam quickly shrugged on a t-shirt that seemed fresh before opening the door and leaving his room, closing the door with a soft _click. _

The narrow upstairs hallway was dim, with two doors opened and the other two closed. Sam and Dean's room where the only ones closed, leaving the bathroom and their father's room. John was rarely ever in there, as it reminded him of Mary.

Midway last night Sam had heard someone stumble downstairs, knowing that it was their dad, probably back from work and a late-night journey of drinking. Work and alcohol were John Winchester's favorite things, and his sons knew that to heart.

Usually their dad wasn't violent...but there definitely were his moments. Still sporting a bruise on his left cheek from a few nights ago, Sam tried to cover it up as much as possible to avoid suspicion. He only ever hit Sam, never Dean.

But that didn't stop him from throwing a few punches of his own.

While Sam got the physical bit, Dean got the verbal one. All of their father's anger just seemed to burn into hits and screams. His youngest son wouldn't be able to count all the times John had called his eldest son a "useless piece of shit","a fully-grown child", or his favorite "you're the reason I'm like this"...among other things.

Sam always tried to defend Dean to his fullest extent, but when you're being hit over and over and screamed at...it's hard to stand strong. Those nights always ended up in a stream of "I'm sorry's" and their dad passing out on the couch. Leaving his youngest with a crying older brother who couldn't defend himself, John just slept the night away. Consoling his brother as much as he could, Sam always took account for the emotional damage that just happened.

_'M I really all those things Dad said, Sammy? _

_God no, you're special Dean...more than he'll ever know. _

_I special?_

_Of course, inside 'n out. Don't worry, just go to bed. _

_Night night, Sammy._

_Night, Dean._

That conversation imprinted itself into Sam's head, replaying itself sometimes, the voices clear as if it was just happening. And it probably would, as long as both Winchester sons stayed in that house with their father.

After high school, Sam was going to go to college and take Dean with him. He'd get a job and study law, like he wanted to. Everything would be okay.

It'd just take time.

Entering Dean's room, right next to Sam's, he flicked on the lights, making the room awfully bright and burning Sam's eyes. Blinking several times, he managed to get them feeling normal again. Waking up usually wasn't a challenge for Dean, as long as he was willing to do so.

Dean's bedroom consisted of four windows; one on each wall, draped with old gray curtains. A twin bed was pushed into the upper left corner, with a form buried in blankets on top. His closet, filled with his clothes, stood in the opposite corner from the bed. Then, last but not least, a large cardboard box served as a place for Dean to put his toys in sat in front of his bed, making for easy grabs.

Seeing from the doorway what the bundled form's chest would be, rising and falling with each breath, Sam couldn't help but smile at how Dean looked so innocent and untouched in his sleep.

Padding to the side of the bed, Sam gently shook the pile of the blankets, hoping that by doing this he wouldn't deplete Dean's usual cheery and lovable mood to something bad. Dean liked his sleep...sometimes.

A loud groan emitted from the top of the bed and filled the room, and Sam couldn't help but laugh a bit. He'd probably do the same thing if the roles were reversed. Just shaking his older brother wasn't going to wake him up, Sam had to be more persistent.

"Five more minutes, 'Ammy..." the blankets mumbled, and the voice from them sounded so..._real _and so unlike the childish speech and tone Dean usually used. And Sam wanted to hear it over and over again until he couldn't anymore, but it didn't come. But Sam didn't let that get to him, he couldn't, holding on to something that would almost never happen again wasn't realistic, and was pointless.

Poking Dean's shoulder, Sam whispered, "Come on, Dean. Time to get up." Making a softer noise of displeasure, Dean's head poked itself out of the cocoon of blankets he somehow made himself. His dark blonde-brown hair was tousled and the trademark bed head look, making the slight gold tone of it show. Slowly sitting up, his legs moving sluggishly with little coordination and hung limply off the bed.

Rubbing his eyes with his fists, like a sleepy child would, Dean whined, "Sammy, why you wake me up? It early."

Sam smirked, and rolled his eyes playfully, "Well...I thought...maybe we could go out for breakfast, then go Christmas shopping. It's only a week and a half till then. So...why not?" Sam knew that Dean would do anything that had to do with food, he knew that like the back of his hand. This also gave the opportunity for Sam to get something for Dean, knowing that he could easily hide it in the cart.

It took a minute or so for the info to process in Dean's brain, but when it did, Sam was sure that he would never see a brighter smile in his entire life. Green orbs shone with love and happiness, and Sam wish he had a camera with him. The dopey grin spread on Dean's face made the corner of his eyes crinkle, only adding to it all.

Dean cheered, "Awesome!" He jumped off his bed, gaining his balance by shifting his face before hobbling as fast as he could in his pajamas out the door of the bedroom to wash up, "Come on, Sammy! We got to get goin'!"

Laughing and heading in Dean's direction, Sam called back, "Wait for me!"

Today so far was perfect, and it was only the start.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you for your reviews to last chapter! I changed/edited a few things to the earlier chapters, adding more stuff to make it a more solid story. This chapter is a two-part, geez I've been doing those a lot. Review if you can, please! **

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Putting the light blue toothpaste onto the brush, Sam helped Dean brush his teeth. With this task, Dean usually didn't need much help, just a bit of a push to get him going. He wasn't entirely helpless...and Sam knew that; sometimes it was just hard to tell what he could do and what he couldn't. Handing his brother the toothbrush, Sam did the same thing to his own, before cleaning the inside of his mouth. This time, he put on too much paste and an explosion of mint burst across his tongue, and he threatened to gag.

But he kept going, and swirled the brush around his teeth and gums. Once he was settled, everything inside feeling minty fresh, Sam took a cup filled with water and rinsed, making sure Dean did the same, who now had smears of the minty toothpaste across his mouth. Sam shook his head in mock disappointment, and Dean chuckled lightly. They spit into the sink, one after the other. Grabbing a dark blue towel off the rack beside the shower, Sam wiped his older brother's face, trying to be as gentle as possible.

Dean held little protest, knowing the feeling of the paste sticking to his skin was rather unpleasant.

Sam left the bathroom, leaving Dean inside to do his business and have privacy. A few minutes later Sam heard the sound of the sink running and the flush of the toilet, and he silently praised his older brother for remembering that. The door opened, and Dean stepped out, smiling sweetly and wringing his hands dry, spraying water everywhere.

Avoiding the oncoming droplets of water, Sam quickly grabbed the same towel as before and dried Dean's hands with it, making sure the small slate gray ID bracelet his older brother always wore was dry. A meager thing but still vitally important, it contained Dean's name and age, a statement saying he had a head injury creating brain damage, along with contact names and numbers. The only two being Sam Winchester and Bobby Singer.

Their dad wasn't reliable enough, being everywhere at anytime almost. So there was no point.

"Now, all we have to do is get dressed, Alright?" Sam informed, cupping his hands around Dean's face, gripping his attention. Because otherwise, Dean had the small possibility of not hearing his brother, and wouldn't know exactly what to do next. His mind drifted off constantly, off to somewhere Sam did not know.

His brother nodded, and ran out the bathroom door towards his bedroom. Sam felt a bittersweet grin tug at his face, before going to his own room. On his way there, he heard the faint sound of groaning, and assumed it was their dad on the couch in the living room, sleeping away a hangover. He most likely wouldn't get up for a few hours or so, leaving plenty of time.

Finding a clean pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, Sam got dressed. It was cold out, Christmas not too far away in a sense. It didn't snow often in Kansas, but when it did it was usually quite a bit. Who knows? It was different every year. Peeking out the window, the teen saw a faint dusting of frost stick to the dead grass outside.

Grabbing his shoes, Sam hopped through the hallway putting them on. He needed new ones, the soles partly torn and the laces frayed and old. Sam didn't have much money, only getting some from odd jobs or looking after people's dogs while they were away, and walking them. At least he had saved some for this particular occasion, just keeping it for a rainy day.

The hallway was now lighter, the sun starting to fully rise. Gold rays bounced across the wooden panels of the wall, making them look elegant and regal. Touching the walls for some balance, Sam flinched at the cold wood, shocking him and finally taking away the last tiny bit of sleep that was tugging him.

He knocked on Dean's door and waited. A minute later, the door creaked open, revealing a clothed brother, tied shoes and all. Sam couldn't help but smile proudly. Usually the older man had his shirt backwards or untied shoes, but this time he was completely...perfect in that way.

"Ready, Sammy! I'm starving," he chimed, before tugging something out of his pockets and handing it to his younger brother. Sam rolled his eyes in his usual fashion, before taking the item in Dean's hands and putting it around Dean's neck. It was the amulet Sam had given him when he was eight one Christmas, before their mother was gone and their dad had spiralled downwards. Bobby had given it to him, saying it was special. So, as a result, Sam had given to someone he cared about. And Dean never went a day without wearing the damn thing.

Not that it bothered Sam.

Heading down the stairs, both brothers tried to go as quietly as they could, in hopes of not disturbing their father. That was a bit hard for Dean, at one point almost tripping down a step, but thankfully, they had a railing. Creeping by, Sam snagged a few extra dollars from the tabletop and stuffed them in the pocket of his jeans to go along with his own money. Being the humble and selfless person he is, you think he'd feel sorry for that. But he didn't, knowing that he did need it and besides, it was for Dean after all.

What was the harm in it?

Turning his head back a small fraction, Sam saw that Dean didn't notice. Even after all the horrible and rude things their dad has done to him, Dean still had a sense that John was still someone to look up to, to follow, and to obey. When in fact, that was almost never the case.

Helping his brother put his jacket on, Sam gave one last look at the sleeping form snoring softly on the couch, before tugging Dean gently out the door and into the front yard. The air was chillier than either had anticipated, and pulled their coats closer to their bodies. Dean's face lit up at the sight of the Impala parked in front of the house, and Sam couldn't help but smile at the sight. It was downright adorable, and honestly, he hoped one day Dean would be able to drive it.

The inside of the car smelled like leather and a faint hint of gunpowder along with alcohol from God knows where. It smelled like tapes and something worn. It smelled like home. But not the home the two Winchester sons lived in, it was another kind of home.

Fastening the seat belt across Dean's torso, Sam checked the mirror before driving off to find somewhere to eat. In the corner of his eye, he saw a hand reach for an old cassette tape; and push it in with uncoordinated fingers into the slot. Rock music blared through the speakers, and Sam could practically feel his mouth give a small twitch.

Throwing a small glance at the rear view mirror, Sam said with no real heat in his voice, "Really, Dean?"

His brother was too busy nodding his head to the music and looking out his window with bright eyes. Shaking his head, Sam followed the road, pasting by cars, houses, and the world going by. It was peaceful and calming, and honestly, Sam thought about driving away for hours and hours. It felt good, leaving behind what was far off in the distance, but he knew he couldn't really do it.

Really he could, just not now.

Parking in front of a rather popular diner, with a name Sam never remembered, on the outskirts of town, Sam helped Dean out of the car, knowing that his feet wouldn't fully go onto the ground immediately. They had been driving for only twenty minutes, but the green-eyed man's legs were shaky as ever. Sam thought about getting him something for that, maybe a brace or something to help him walk. But Dean was a proud guy, and he'd most likely refuse...

_There's a lot of things we need, _a voice whispered in the crevice of Sam's mind.

It took all of Sam's strength to get Dean not to jump out of the car and "run" to the diner. The prospect of food was a weakness of his.

Heading inside, the two were greeted with a warm, comforting atmosphere. A long, polished booth curved around a bar a bit away. Waitresses scurried around, helping large groups of people. Large windows brought in light, making the tiles on the floor shine brightly, along with the old photos of famous people and other landmarks hung up on the walls. The heavenly smell of breakfast foods drifted through the air, and Dean looked ready to pounce into the kitchen and take something.

A small, petite woman with heavy make-up and blonde hair smiled tiredly at the two in front of her, "Hello! Seat for two?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah. Thanks."

"No problem! Right this way," she cheered as she quickly guided them to a small booth in the lower right corner of the diner, not even noticing It was cozy and fitting.

She placed two pairs of silverware, napkins, and a couple of menus before smiling again, "Your waitress will be right with you." Dean grinned, the corner of his eyes crinkling up. A small blush creeped up on the woman's cheeks, and she quickly hurried off back to her station.

Browsing through the menus, tried to find something equally healthy and cheap. He had no idea what to get Dean when they were going shopping after this, and decided that if he could save as much money as he could, there'd be more options.

Before they knew it, a short woman with bushy dark-brown hair and warm eyes came over with a pen and paper in her hand, "Ready to order?"

"Uh, yeah. I'll have...just coffee...black, thanks."

The waitress quirked an eyebrow, "You sure, love?"

Sam nodded, slightly embarrassed, "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Alright," she said with a touch of concern in her voice, she looked at Dean, who was currently fixated by the kinds of food listed on the piece of laminated paper in front of him. Before Sam could grab his attention, the woman gently tapped him on the shoulder. A short shudder went through Dean's body, but the woman seemed unfazed, which surprised Sam completely.

"What can I get you, honey?" she asked, as if nothing happened.

A corner of Dean's mouth upturned, before putting a slightly quizzical look on his face, "I have bacon, eggs, and...toast. Home fries on the side, please!" The waitress laughed softly, before throwing him a wink, "Sure thing, love. I'll be back soon with your orders."

Sam's mouth was agape, he'd never seen someone completely unfazed by Dean; how he spoke, how he walked, anything that seemed out of the ordinary. People usually left him alone, scared of him or unsure. It was nice to see a change of pace.

A while later, the same waitress came back, with Dean's order, a thing or coffee, and..._pancakes._ Setting down Dean's plate of food, she gently said, "Be careful, sweetheart. It's hot." Dean's eye lit up like a thousand stars, and Sam smiling widely, wished he had a camera with him. Dean nodded his thanks, before tucking in quickly.

Looking down the cup of coffee and pancakes, Sam was confused, "Um...I just ordered coffee."

The waitress gave a combination of both a smirk and a smile, showing a pair of large front teeth, "It's on the house, love. Ya look hungry. 'S not often I see someone like you."

Sam furrowed his brow, "What does that mean?"

"Someone who bothers to take care of another person. There aren't many out there," she muttered sadly, she soon picked herself up, tone lighter, "and besides, it's cold out and winter, just a thing of coffee isn't going to warm your bones or fill you up." As much as Sam felt like he was being pitied, he sensed a genuine thought coming from her. She seemed nice, what harm could it do?

The teenager blinked, "...Thank you."

The waitress winked, "No problem, hon." And she sauntered off to take care of another group of people who were ready to order.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you guys for such a long wait! For those of you who sent me kind PM's, thank you so much. Everyone here is so kind and thoughtful, I don't deserve it. Here's another chapter! Filled with mild fluff (I think) and just brotherly affection.**

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After finishing their meal and Sam leaving their waitress a hefty tip along with the bill, he wiped Dean's crumb and egg-covered face. In the midst of them eating, the kind woman had passed Sam some damp napkins, throwing him a tiny, but comforting upturn of a mouth, before bustling off once more into the crowd of bodies and tables.

Checking his watch, and seeing it to be almost quarter after nine in the morning, the shaggy haired teen made sure he paid the bill in full and threw another dollar (or two) onto the tip pile, just for those napkins alone.

Patting the pocket of his jeans, the light bulk of frosty green, paper bills was felt inside. A fleeting, cooling sense of relief filled Sam's mind before floating away. There was still enough to get Dean something he would love. Maybe Bobby too, if possible.

Dad too...if Sam was feeling up to it. More like a peace offering rather than a holiday present, though.

Making sure Dean used the bathroom before they finally headed out, Sam glared at whoever gawked in an odd sense of curiosity when his brother limped/hobbled past them, fern green sparks for eyes bright with innocence and happiness at being filled with food and getting out of the house for once. The comforting, unbiased attention their short, stocky waitress had given Dean earlier now seemed even more different than before.

It was nice. And Sam told himself that he'd be more than happy to take Dean here again, the food was pretty good, and the employees seemed rather kind and polite. Keeping some faith in small places and humanity is vital, as hard as it can be sometimes.

Waiting for a few more minutes, Sam sat at their booth, unconsciously feeling the soft and worn, decorated fabric beneath long fingers. Hopefully Dean didn't need any help in there, but it'd be best for him to have some privacy for once.

The sounds of footsteps and an affectionate huff of breath popped themselves into Sam's ears, and a spasm runs through his body before he realizes it. Warm, hearty laughter fills the air, with a resulting blush covering the teen's face.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. Just wanted to check on you and your brother, love," their waitress, with no name tag, beamed. A small tug at the corners of his mouth greeted her, though usually Sam didn't like to be startled. Preferring to keep his guard up.

But her comment made Sam wonder, "Wait...how did you know, um, we're brothers?"

Earthy brown eyes twinkled, "Jus' a guess." And as she said that, Dean appeared from the bathroom door, and walked as fast as his legs could allow, to the pair.

"Hey, Sammy! Can we go soon?" Dean asked, practically vibrating with excitement. Giving a shy, small wave to the woman standing next to him, he looked as if he had just met her, expression mixed with both suspicion and wonder. Which, to a small degree, worried Sam. But he let it slide.

Clearing his throat, the younger of the three nodded quickly before standing, "Hey, dude. Yeah, let's go." Without a second to pass by, Dean flew past other patrons and headed out the front door, eyes set on the Impala visible through the frosty windows. Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, Sam didn't know what to do next.

Well...he did. But in a dramatic sense he didn't.

Placing a fleshy hand on Sam's shoulder, the woman smiled once more, "Have a good day, hon. Both of you! Get him something special."

Sighing, the teen pressed his lips together, "Yeah, I, uh, I will. Thanks, again...for everything."

"Don't mention it. Now get going!" With a firm push, Sam was further away from the booth, glancing behind him, the waitress was still there, obviously not going to disappear like in the movies, with hands on her hips, eyebrows raised, mouthing 'Go!'

Laughing, Sam headed out into the cold, brisk outdoors. Rough pavement scratching the thin soles of his tennis shoes. Pulling his jacket tighter around him, the younger was surprised he hadn't freeze to death. The sun was weak behind the clouds, providing clean but dim, white light.

Seating himself in the driver's seat of their beloved car, he thrust the keys into the ignition, pumping power through the vehicle and breathing it to life. The roar of the engine was music and love to both boy's ears. Firmly shutting the door beside him and putting on his seat-belt, and helping Dean do the same, Sam pulled the car out of the parking lot and onto the road ahead.

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"Sammy, we there yet? I wanna see what's there. I need to find your Christmas present!" Dean whined, before slowly trailing off into a lighter tone at the mention of Christmas. Sam smirked, wanting to look at the gleeful expression that crossed his older brother's face. But instead kept his eyes fixed on the road, snow flurries pelting the windshield and leaving wet trails behind.

"Yeah, yeah. We're almost there Dean. So...what do you plan on getting me? Sam teased, putting the little, big brother tone in his voice as always. Unlike many people, he didn't talk to Dean as if he was a child per say, but still keeping the elements of affection and lightheartedness. He had seen the looks of annoyance his older brother had given others when they treated him like an incompetent child. Sure he was a bit of a child at heart...and in mind. But that didn't mean people shouldn't treat him with respect and dignity. And Sam kept that close.

Rolling his eyes, Dean scoffed, "I can't tell you, Sammy. That the whole point."

The corners of Sam's lips turned up in a minor smile. He should have expected that answer. Fixing his focus once more on the road, he noticed how..._normal _everything music sung through the speakers of the car, and Dean tapped his fingers and nodded his head to the tune. They were just driving, with a destination ahead of them. It felt right, the material of the steering wheel beneath his fingertips and the heat blazing from the A/C. While Dean did his thing and he did his.

And before Sam knew it, they were at the store. Pulling into a spot nearest to the entrance, Sam reminded Dean, "Okay. You stick close to me while we're picking out Dad's and Bobby's presents. And then, we'll split up and look for each others."

Dean hummed in agreement, and tugged off his seat belt with a bit of effort. His fingers were clumsy, due to poor motor skills, often his hands weren't nearly as bad as his legs, but they still were able to cause some difficulty. Sam watched in interest, wanting to see if he could do it. And soon enough, with a tad bit of struggle, the older brother managed to get his seat belt out of the holder.

A sense of happiness and wonder washed itself over Sam, who couldn't help but smile in earnest at his brother's triumphant and gleeful expression. Green eyes sparkled brighter than stars and the corner of his eyes crinkled with the size of his grin.

"See, Sammy? I can do it," Dean chimed.

Still stunned with awe, Sam nodded, "Uh...yeah, you did, dude. That's awesome." And Sam rewarded his brilliant brother with a firm pat on the back. Unbuckling his own seat belt, the taller of the two climbed out of the Impala, with Dean close behind him, almost slipping on some ice.

Sam threw Dean a worried look, but was only met with a shake of a dark blond head and an exasperated smile. As much as his brother loved Christmas, he'd never like ice. Ever. That's why he liked Fourth of July better than anything: he could look at fireworks with Sammy and there wasn't any ice.

Or at least, that's what he had told Sam once. And by once he meant right after Dean's near freefall. The guy's opinion changed quickly with a lot of things, which was interesting considering how stubborn he could be sometimes.

Entering the store, Dean grabbed a cart before Sam could. His hand missed the handle/grip by an inch or so, but quickly recovered. As much as his little brother was worried about him bumping or running over something or _someone, _Sam let him drive the cart. The older Winchester found happiness in small things, and this was one of them. So what harm could it do? Besides, the store wasn't too crowded anyways.

Smelling of cleaner and assorted goodies, the building wasn't too bad. High ceilings and bright florescent lights hanging above, it provided enough light to be both equally bothersome and helpful for others. People milled about, pushing the carts in front of them, looking like blurs of color and occasional sound.

Exploring through the car parts aisle, Sam honestly didn't know what to get their beloved "uncle." A gruff bastard who ran a junkyard in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and who was more of a father figure than John was, in a sense.

Turning to Dean with a frown on his face, the teen asked, "Hey, Dean. What should we get Bobby?"

Facing his little brother, the older put on a thoughtful face.

"Uh...I don't know. How these?" he uttered, pointing a box of tools and supplies, made for everything from fixing a damaged exhaust pipe to repairing old brakes. Then other things Sam had no idea about. The price wasn't too bad...at least fifteen dollars. But the younger knew he'd have more than enough.

Needless to say, it was a good choice.

"You think he'll like them?"

Dean nodded, a small smile gracing his face.

"Alright. Good choice, dude," Sam praised, nodding to himself as he grabbed the box and placed it carefully inside the navy blue cart, not wanting to ruin anything fragile that might be inside. "'Kay...now we just have to find Dad's present. And then we'll go our separate ways."

If finding Bobby's present was difficult in Sam's mind, then finding one for his father would be astronomically impossible. And that was putting it lightly.

_Well...uh, what does he like? _Sam asked himself.

_Booze, _was the reply. And as much as that would probably be the best guess at the moment, Sam knew he'd get a slap for that the minute a bottle of wine or a pack of beer was unwrapped that morning. It's been known for centuries that people didn't like staring their problems and demons right in the face.

This can be applied to anyone.

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**I'm going to cut off here. Because, I'm going to keep what Sam is going to get Dean and vice versa secret until they actually open their presents. So, feel free to guess what they're going to get each other! Review please! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks to lenail125 for your review! I'm glad I'm back too. Also, thank you people for your favorites and follows! I love getting the alert for them, it makes my day. You'll find out what the boys got each other eventually, because things are about to go down...warnings for emotional, physical abuse, and ableism. John's an asshole and I'm sorry. You'll see that's how I usually write him, because...I just don't like him at all, in canon or anywhere else.**

**Also, cautions for next chapter! I know that mental age regression isn't very common at all with head injuries, from what I know and have seen. But after all this, Dean's damaged brain/mind takes a bit of a break for itself, protecting him from the hit and all the abuse he's suffered, his mind will be in a temporary state of further regression. Not too much, but a few years at most, putting him around three or four, in a sense. He'll bounce back to where he was before at the beginning of this story, don't worry!**

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"'S'okay, Dean. We're going to be fine. I know it," Sam reassured, helping his brother into the Impala, an angry bruise marking Dean's cheek, making him look smaller and more vulnerable than ever. Buckling his brother's seatbelt, the teen shut the door softly. Walking a bit further down, he threw two small bags containing their few possessions into the trunk, slamming it shut as fury and frustration built up inside. This was the first time their dad had ever hit Dean.

And it would be the last.

_Not too long before..._

Putting the finishing touches on Dean's present, Sam carefully applied the last piece of tape onto the shiny blue-silver, snow-flake adorned wrapping paper. It had taken him longer than expected, and while the box containing his brother's gift was rectangular and tall, he wanted it to be perfect. And finally, it was. The paper curved over the corners like water against rocks, and looked impeccable.

Needless to say, the youngest Winchester was proud of himself, and smiled fondly at the look of pure glee that would reward him on Christmas morning when Dean opened it.

In the room next to him, through the thin walls, the teen could hear sounds of frustration as Dean himself tried to wrap Sam's present. As stubborn as ever, he refused to have anyone help him, muttering "I can do it m'self, Sammy." and shutting the door behind him.

At the store, after they had parted ways in the search for a present for the other, the older had hidden Sam's gift behind his back, and went to the self-checkout section himself, using money he had saved up himself from working at Bobby's during visits. Watching the gruff man working on cars was one of Dean's favorite things, and was more than happy to help. Of course his motor skills and the like sometimes got in the way, it didn't prevent him from passing a tool or fixing something minor like a gear.

Honestly, Sam would rather just take Dean to Bobby's for Christmas instead of staying here...

Tucking the present beneath his bed, as they had no tree this year, like always, and this would be the most sufficient way of hiding it from Dean. Last year, the sneaky jerk managed to find where Sam had hidden his present and peaked inside, childish (for his part) impatience getting the better of him. Classic Dean Winchester. But, towards the end of that day, he felt a tad guilty and whole-heartedly apologized.

Eventually, the huff and sputters of frustration ceased, later followed by a giggle and a sound of pride. A halfway smile crept onto the younger's face, glad nothing bad was going to come out of that whole scenario.

Sometimes, Dean's inability or difficulty with certain tasks or..._anything _could cause semi-violent outbursts. He never hurt anybody, just occasionally threw things or shouted himself hoarse. But those days/moments were few and far between, leaving behind a tough yet fragile, kind and sweet-hearted brother that Sam was glad to call his own.

The shuffling of uncoordinated feet prodded themselves at Sam's ears, and as much as he wanted to follow Dean wherever he went, just to make sure he was okay...he knew being the complete mother hen was the last thing either wanted. Of course he was the caretaker in a sense, but the teen was also his brother, his sibling, and treated him as such. Never following behind him; watching all the time.

Laying on top of his bed, sinking the comfort of the blankets and mattress, it sagging slightly beneath the gangly, tall weight of the teen's body. Breathing a large sigh, feeling the air build up in his lungs before letting it go with more control than ever; enjoying the pressure against his chest as it left. Staring up at the ceiling, Sam thought about nothing as the whirls of winter wind blew against his windows, rattling the branches against them and scratching the ancient glass.

He felt at peace, just being able to lay back and let the world go by. Maybe it wasn't too bad to relax and let go. If you wanted to get poetic about it. The twitches of a smile tugged against Sam's lips, and time slowed a tad.

That was, until he heard a thump or two, something go _clunk,_ and a familiar yelp from downstairs: namely the kitchen.

In a flash, Sam was off his bed and headed down the stairs, feet pounding with the speed and intensity at which he was moving. John was still asleep when they came back around one that afternoon. It was now around four-thirty, and there was no doubt he was now awake. From whatever that was.

_Shit, shit, shit! Dean better be okay, _were the only thoughts that raced through Sam's mind as he flew down the stairs. He couldn't even feel his feet hit the steps, they were so fast. It was only air between them. Anger began to boil inside the teen's soul as images of his incredibly protective, yet fragile older brother wounded, with their father looming over. Dread churned inside, threatening to pull him under and consume him. Sam wasn't there fast enough for his standards at this moment.

And his visions were somewhat true.

Standing in the doorway of the kitchen, Sam watched in horror as their father was standing tall over a huddled figure, shaking lightly.

"What the hell is the matter with you, Dean?! You can't even make food for you and your brother without fucking it up..." the voice of their father bellowed, remnants of drunkenness etched inside.

"I sorry!" Dean pleaded, trying his hardest to sound strong: for Sammy. He just wanted to make some toast...and maybe Sammy wanted some too, and he had dropped their toaster; his hands too clumsy and shaken from the exercise they had gotten upstairs, wrapping his little brother's present. The metallic _clunk _it had made on the linoleum floor had woken up John in his post-drunken-escapade rest. And of course, that resulted in rage and hurt.

A growl rose itself out of Sam's throat, and he threw himself between them. This wasn't the first time something like this happened, as known before, but even after all the re-runs and practice, it still remained raw and disgusting. Almost always turning the words laying in Sam's mouth to ash.

Glaring at John, Sam demanded, "What are you doing? Leave him alone, Dad. I mean it." The younger tried to sound strong, but instead seemed pathetic and weak. Like a three-year-old defending something they had done, not a lot of strength, but a whole lot of determination.

Swaying slightly, John pointed to the fallen toaster, right beside a still shuddering Dean, "The _-hic-_ little retard fucking woke me up. After all I _-hic-_ do for you two: keep you in school, Sam, have a _-hic-_ roof over our heads, and this is the thanks I get? Not even a lil bit of shut-eye?"

Sam threw Dean a sympathetic glance, wanting nothing more than to just carry his older brother away. Hot tears could be seen in the corners of frightened, bright green eyes, the tears began to streak pale skin; so unlike the usual tan, sun-kissed complexion.

"He didn't mean it! When has he ever hurt you? Or either of us? Jus' go back to sleep," the younger Winchester reasoned. Conflict was common between him and his father, but that didn't make it right.

While a bit of thoughtfulness passed over their dad's face, making him look parental and better, it didn't last long. "Once he learns his lesson, like a son should," was the last thing John had said.

Before Sam knew it, he was shoved out of the way, and the _smack _of skin hitting bone filled the immediate air. Upon realization, the teen's mind went blank. Hot red fury then filled the inside, and crimson filled his vision. Their dad had just hit Dean, something he had never done before. Ever. It was only ever Sam who took the beatings, and Dean got the yelling and insults. That's how it worked in John's mind.

But now that changed. And not for the better.

Dean shrank at the contact, and pulled farther in on himself, trying to seem smaller. Tears were running down his face like river water, landing on his shirt and dampening the collar. The left side of his face burned and started to ache. He wanted to protect Sammy, like he always told himself to do. But now he couldn't, not right now. It tugged and pulled around him: the feeling of being worthless. Sammy always told him to never feel that way, because everything he did was good and he didn't mean any harm to anything or anyone.

And unlike the past times where John would spring a whirl of "I'm sorry's", this time their father just dragged his ass back to the couch without so much as a glance or another word to his sons. Flopping on the couch, he was immediately asleep. Alcohol had an odd and disgusting effect on some.

Crouching in front of Dean, Sam gave him a sad smile, "Hey, Dean. Come on, dude. We're gonna go." Upon looking at his distressed and teary-eyed brother, Sam immediately stepped into a gentler tone and pushed away the anger. His heart reached out to the huddled figure in front of him, and he made sure that Dean knew he loved him. He needed it right now. They both did.

Sniffling, the older nodded, "'Kay, Sammy. I s-sorry. Deanie did bad." The mention of the nickname their parents used when they were little, surprised Sam, but he let it slide. He had bigger things to worry about. They had to get out of here.

Helping him up, Sam shook his head, putting a hand on the shorter's elbow, "Don't be sorry. You did nothing wrong." Going slowly but surely up the stairs, the pair collected some of their things together, including one another's presents, and put them into two separate bags. Once that was done, Sam pulled Dean's jacket around him, wiping away some of the leftover tears too. A heavy weight sunk inside at the realization of what he was doing. But the teen knew this was best.

"Where we goin', Sammy?" Dean asked as Sam tugged his own jacket on, holding his bag in shaking fingers. The younger noticed that his brother's speech was more simple sounding now, and more...childlike. But as said before, he could worry about that later.

"To Bobby's house for a bit, Dean. Sound good?"

At the mention of their surrogate uncle, the older smiled brightly, as if forgetting everything that just happened, "'Kay."

Heading once more down the stairs, and stopping by the front door, Sam said his own silent goodbyes. While Dean seemed scared once more. Tears erupted, coating the bottom of crystal green eyes, "Sammy? We leaving Daddy? He's not comin'?"

Sam felt his heart ache for his brother, "No. He's not, Dean. Don't worry. We'll be okay." The older nodded, trying to sound strong for Sammy once more. He shouldn't be crying. Big boys didn't cry.

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**Review please!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Aww. Due to a writing spree, you guys get two chapters in two days! Thank you guys, gals, and others for your reviews, favorites, and follows! Oh, and lovely Reader who reviewed, don't worry, I don't plan on making this story unbearably short. I have plans for it! :D **

**Sorry if I made you have a lot of emotions last chapter! The boys are going to okay! I'm making sure of it. Oh, and they're not going to be at Bobby's till the end of the chapter, because, after a quick Google, it's about 387 miles from Lawrence, Kansas, to Sioux Falls, South Dakota. And I want to describe their ride there: being about eight hours. **

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Gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled fingers, Sam breathed a heavy sigh through his nose. Even with the heat of the car on, he still felt cold, both inside and out. While a minor sense of freedom and happiness planted itself inside of his body, Sam still felt leftover, burning anger at all that happened. Why the hell couldn't their father just leave them alone? Go when he needed to and come back when rest was desired. Nothing more. Become only a living ghost in his sons' lives.

It might have been easier that way.

Through the windshield, the twilight of the day started to appear, the sky becoming an inky blue and streetlights starting their show. Cars drove by, heading to a destination of their own, sometimes spurring up snow and slush along the way. The leather seats and the steering wheel were the only solid things Sam could feel, as if he was suspended in air, with nothing to feel or know. A sniffle pulled him out of this thoughts.

Without the need to look, Sam patted his brother's knee, "You okay, man?" It still bothered him how Dean seemed to...pull in on himself more. Mental-wise. Sam suspected it was the fact that their father had hit the older for the first time. Trauma had odd ways. Originally, Sam believed Dean was around six, because of the head injury so long ago, and now he was most likely three or four.

But if becoming more regressed helped Dean recover and be happier for the time being, Sam was okay with it. Whatever made it easier.

They'd get through this.

Dean nodded, tears finally gone, and just leaving red-rimmed, green sparks of light, "Yeah. I okay, Sammy. Hurts here though," he muttered solemnly, putting gentle fingers across the area where Dad had punched him. The skin along his jaw was a little swollen, and red, making the stubble along Dean's face more stark. A sad smile crept along the younger's mouth, and he contemplated just grabbing some snow outside and packing together, for Dean to hold along the bruising. But they had to keep going, because the more they kept going, the sooner they'd be at Bobby's.

"You okay, Sammy? You hurt?" Dean asked seriously, eyes frantically searching for any sign of wounds or damage along Sam's body.

A chuckle escaped the teen's mouth, and Dean glared. It just seemed...funny how even when Dean was the one that was pummeled, insulted, and just treated like crap: that he still cared only if his little brother was okay. Both a blessing and a curse. One of Dean Winchester's biggest traits: never-ending care and protectiveness.

Sam nodded, "Yeah, um...I'm okay, dude. Don't worry. You wanna go to sleep?" Stopping his glare, the older nodded thoughtfully and turned his back to face the window more, watching the snow descend from the slate gray clouds above. Slipping his thumb into his mouth, Dean took a deep breath and let sleep lull him further.

And that sight broke Sam's heart.

Breathing a shattered breath, the inside of him did the same: crackle and fray at the edges. A half-laugh half-sob caught itself in the teen's throat. Small beads of water stuck to the corners of his eyes, and the hazel orbs blinked them away. But even then, the tears fell like streams. Holding his breath to stop any noise coming out and waking his brother up, Sam cried in silence.

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They had only been on the road for four hours, and now were about halfway to Bobby's. Night had long since fell, no stars or moon to be seen, only clouds of white snow dropping from dark blankets of sky. Looking at the time, Sam saw it was only nine-thirty at night. It would be another four more hours till they arrived, putting it at one in the morning.

Stopping quickly at a rest area, Sam shook Dean awake gently, hoping that he wouldn't be startled. The bruise marking his left cheek wasn't red anymore, but a light purple. At least that meant it was healing.

His lower back and ass sore, the teen was glad to finally stretch his legs for a bit. There was no doubt that he'd be able to drive for longer. He'd have to, with only a few dollars left to his name but plenty of gas still in the Impala.

"Hey, Dean. D'you need to go to the bathroom?" Sam whispered softly.

Long lashes quivered, and jade appeared beneath, bright and loving as usual. Extracting his thumb from his mouth, Dean yawned, "Uh-huh. Yeah, Sammy. Deanie gotta go." The younger nodded, and helped his brother out with his seatbelt. Getting out of his own seat and into the outside, Sam shivered, it was freezing outside, his breath turning into quick fog.

Quickly sauntering to the passenger's side of the vehicle, the teen opened the door and helped his brother out, holding his hand and making sure he kept his balance. Sitting down and falling asleep for a few hours took its' toll on Dean's legs, as wobbly and unsure as they always were. Once Dean was okay, Sam adjusted his brother's jacket, making sure it kept him as warm as possible. Another problem, was after the head injury, Dean became colder fast. But they almost always had it under control.

Gripping Sam's hand tightly in his, Dean shot an affectionate grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. No one was around: to give sharp remarks or gawk at the pair.

Heading into the rest area, the intense florescent lights burned against Sam's eyes. And the smell of floor cleaner crept its' way into his nose. The building was empty, being one where you could just help yourself, with only a bathroom and bulletin boards displaying advertisements and directions to various places. Stepping into the bathroom, Sam let go of Dean's hand and told him to do what he needed, while he did the same. At first, the older was afraid of being left alone, bottom lip shaking and eyes growing lighter with fear.

"Don't worry, man. I'll be in the stall next to you. Okay?"

"Okay, Sammy."

Once that was done, and Sam had helped Dean with washing his hands for the first time in weeks, though the digits still shaky and clumsy as usual. Drying each other's hands, the pair headed back into the cold night air. Thankfully the parking lot was dry and ice-free, Sam didn't know if Dean could handle another injury at the moment. Of course, physically he could, but..._mentally_...who knew? The older son was strong, but everyone has their limits.

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A light forest green sign reading _Sioux Falls, 5 miles _showed itself into Sam's view, and the teen sighed in relief. Bobby lived on the outskirts of the city, in a run-down house that was more of a home than anything the Winchesters had ever known. He had a junkyard and garage, that Dean loved to work in and help out. And the gruff man had many, many books on anything imaginable that made Sam feel like he was in mild paradise.

Regardless to say, it was perfect.

Pulling in front of Bobby's house, the teen couldn't help but smile. They were safe, someplace where they could be normal, and live their lives for a while. Of course, there was their father back in Lawrence to deal with. But that wasn't as important as just getting some sleep and being in comfort.

Stopping the car and turning it off, Sam grinned at his older brother, who had been up since their bathroom break hours ago. Amazingly, with a few hours of sleep, Dean was sometimes bright and awake, as if he had gotten the best night's sleep on Earth. Other times, it was hard to get him out of bed. Wasn't always a morning person.

Climbing out and grabbing their bags, the two went to the rickety front door and knocked, because...well, one of the dumbest things a person can do: is arrive in the middle of the night to Bobby's Singer's house, go into said house without a warning, and just..._wait_. The junkyard owner had a diverse collection of guns, and was a bit on the paranoid/protective side.

A muffled, "What the hell are people doin' out this late?" was heard farther inside, and Dean, standing behind Sam, held his hand to his mouth to stop a childish giggle. Sam couldn't help but try not to laugh either. There was just something humorous about this whole situation to them. Sam and Dean Winchester were strange people.

Opening the door, Bobby glared at them, "Sam? Dean? What are you two dumbasses doin' here?" And that's what made Sam's smile falter, the fact that he'd have to _explain_ this whole predicament.

Putting on a mournful and solemn expression, Sam explained everything, while Dean nodded and showed the bruise along his jaw for evidence. And, in a whisper, Sam told Bobby about how Dean was a little more..._little_ inside, just for now. While Bobby look extremely concerned, he nodded in understanding.

Then anger passed over his face quickly, "I'm sorry you boys went through that. I told John long ago to quit with the damn drinkin'! God...when I get my hands on that son of a bitch..." Bobby growled. The Winchester father and Singer had known each other for years, and had a rough, companionable relationship. But now, after hearing those words, there was nothing more that the garage owner wanted to do more, than to beat the bastard. Bobby knew John's drinking made him aggressive, but he never knew it would get this bad.

But now he knew.


	9. Chapter 9

**Ahh! Thank you all for your reviews, favorites and follows, once more! You keep this story going. Sorry for such a long wait, I started school and I've just been so tired. But I'm glad you're all excited for Bobby in this story. I am too. Hopefully I've gotten his personality and speech pattern down. This is an interlude/filler, of sorts. **

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Once they were settled in, Sam and Dean were given the same room upstairs as always: down the upstairs hall and to the left. The salvage yard owner told the Winchesters that he was more than willing for them to stay here for as long as they wanted. Then again, that was the same proposition as always: that here, it could be a home, even if it was temporary in those long-forgotten childhood Christmases or intensely hot summers where no schoolwork lied ahead, that flooded either Winchester's memories. A place to start afresh was here: in a junkyard in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

There could have been a conversation lasting hours, talking about what had happened in Lawrence, Sam's schooling, Dean's mental health, and the unavoidable fact that John will come back, wanting his sons to come home. Bobby could picture himself trying to talk Sam out of his own stubbornness, which was no doubt brought on by both his brother and his father, that he didn't have to put this all on his shoulders. The junkyard owner then saw Dean occasionally putting his own thoughts in the conversation, just making sure his little brother was safe, no matter if it was something he could or couldn't do.

But knowing the boys were tired, Bobby quickly shooed them up the stairs and left them to their own devices for a while. No use in keeping them up later then they needed to be, more than likely beyond tired from hours of driving and Dean...well, his problems were something else entirely different. Of course, that didn't mean the younger's issues were any less important, it just meant that Sam might be able to deal with his a bit more on his own.

Standing in the doorway of the boy's room, Bobby cleared his throat, "You two gonna be alright?" the slightest yet creeping edge of concern in his voice. Of course he was worried about the boys; they were like his sons. Hell, if he had known all of this was going to happen, he would have taken them as his own. Kept them away from the hell hole that was probably there in Lawrence.

Turning around, Sam spoke for both him and Dean, who was in the room struggling to put on a sleep shirt. "Yeah. Thanks Bobby. You sure you'll be okay? You seemed...uh...pretty angry downstairs," the teen wondered aloud. Glancing behind him, Sam saw Dean finally getting the shirt on and sleepily walking to stand next to him in the doorway, smiling at Bobby before yawning, green eyes bright but hazy with the struggle to stay awake.

The junkyard owner's brows furrowed, with a frown on his face, "Didn't I tell you to stop thanking me? Neither you or your brother owe me a damn thing," and with an exasperated, slightly sarcastic shake of his head, the elder continued, "And of course I'm angry. But not at you two idjits. Just yer damn father."

Bobby's house remained exactly the same as it had been since their last visit about a year and a half ago: the living room being filled with bookcases, which were stuffed to the wooden seams with books and tomes about supernatural creatures and lore, fraying pages pinned to the walls between the windows, stained glass windows at the end of the upper hallway, and a small, 1960's era kitchen. Of course, there was so much more to the house, but only so much can be said.

With no real response to what Bobby had said, Sam nodded before wrapping his surrogate uncle in a tight hug, all the anger and despair lodged in his throat gripping tight before defusing away, like a geyser: the hot air blowing into the sky to be swept up by the wind. All that was left behind was a jittery, albeit cold feeling, making the teen feel lighter than ever. Smelling car oil, exhaust, wood smoke, and the ever familiar scent of alcohol, Sam couldn't help the single tear that leaked out of the corner of his eye, feeling like he was six years old again and needing someone to cling to.

Of course, those times long ago, that was either Dean or Mom. Sometimes Sam clung to Dean, needing just to feel like the little brother instead of the illusion of an older one. Dean would whisper simple words of comfort when he could, Sam remembered proudly, when his speech was growing in leaps and bounds after the accident. Fingers heavily clumsy, sometimes missing Sam's hair completely and legs shaking with a rare spasm, Sam didn't want to leave the cocoon of comfort his brother provided.

And so remembering those somber memories, filled with love and his brother...his family, Sam smiled to himself.


	10. Chapter 10

**This is just a simple chapter, where discussions are made and Dean plays in the snow. *the last part is kinda in Dean's POV***

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Yawning hard enough to pull a few vocal chords, Sam desired nothing more than to sink into the plush comfort of a bed. Hearing loud snoring from downstairs, the teen smiled fondly before closing their bedroom door with a soft _*click*. _Not bothering to change into pajamas or anything; it just didn't seem worth the effort at the moment, Sam spotted his older brother staring in gentle awe out of the burgundy-curtained window. Green eyes fluttered to close before snapping back open.

Behind the glass pane, pure-white snowflakes floated down from the night sky, before landing on the frozen ground below. Despite it snowing, the sky was clear and stars shone above, being a symbol of serenity. It was almost mocking to Sam, how they were so happy and at peace above, while he was down here struggling with almost everything. Though it could be worse...

Standing beside Dean, who was still in awe at the snowflakes falling in front of their eyes, Sam let himself smile as he did the same. They were beautiful.

Dean's voice broke the silence soon after, "Sammy, can we go outside?" Full sentences were uncommon novelties, and Sam took each one like a gift.

The younger Winchester nodded, "Sure." But Dean took that literally, and went to go get his jacket and shoes, leaving Sam to stop him. Mouth a bit agape, the hazel-eyed teen swallowed before adding, "I mean, tomorrow we can, Dean." Looking up from his shoes on the floor, Dean furrowed his brow before yawning and going back to standing beside his brother.

Rolling his eyes a bit, Sam turned from the window to unpack their bags. Pulling out their Christmas gifts to each other, the floppy-haired teen breathed a small laugh at Dean's gift to him. Not in poor-nature...but rather in delight and fondness. It was squarish, the heavy-layered wrapping paper wrinkled from gripping it too hard, making its shape almost deformed, and the words _To Sammy, From Dean _written in dark marker near the top. Wordlessly, Sam placed their gifts on their drawer beside him. Christmas was about a week away, though the youngest Winchester believed that they might give their gifts to each other on Christmas Eve rather than Day.

Since when were they ever traditional?

Looking up from their presents, Sam smiled at how Dean's hands were pressed against the cold window, his breath forming fog against the glass. Sam could see green eyes dart from snowflake to snowflake as they drifted by. The sight before the youngest Winchester was achingly childlike and heartbreaking. No doubt Dean was gonna be able to play in the snow tomorrow...

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"So, what are you two idjits gonna do now? Your welcome to stay here for as long as you need, Sam. An' you two Dean," Bobby said the next morning, as they ate the best breakfast they had had in a long, long while. While the elder wasn't the greatest cook, you could tell it was made with care. Not that Bobby'd ever tell you that.

While Dean altered his gaze from his food and smiled at Bobby, Sam shrugged. "I don't really know...I mean, I gotta finish school. I got one more year after this...and then college if I can," he replied.

Bobby rolled his eyes, "'Course you're goin' to college. Over my dead body you're not." That made Sam smile in hope. Their dad would've said the opposite or told Sam to just leave if he wasn't gonna stay with family.

The trio ate in silence, the metal sounds of silverware hitting against plates and Dean eating enthusiastically filling the kitchen. It was so domestic that Sam was caught a bit off-guard by it, so normal that the hazel-eyed teen didn't believe this was happening. Like at the diner when that waitress acted like Dean was just a regular guy. Sam didn't believe her kindness at first, and took it as pity.

A voice broke through the silence and Sam's thoughts. "So..do ya think your dad's gonna want you two back?" Bobby asked, voice an octave quieter than usual. Dean visibly stiffened at the mention of their father, a light bruise now marking his face where John had punched him.

Sam's expression faltered and he gave another shrug, "Uh, probably sometime. I think it'd take a while before he even realizes we're gone."

Bobby nodded at that, and took a sip of his drink, setting the glass with a solid sound when he was done.

"Daddy not have Christmas with us?" Dean wondered, voice small and so unlike his usual demeanor at Bobby's house. The green-eyed Winchester often bounced off the walls with happiness, and always provided a sly smile when he did something mischievous.

Gulping slightly, Sam shook his head, then brushing chestnut strands from his face, "No, Dean. He's not." The teen sighed before adding, "You really want him to? After...you know, last night?"

Dean did nothing, gaze dropped to the floor and food abandoned. "Deanie d-deserved it." At that statement, anger burned inside of Sam towards their father. John had probably made Dean believe everything he got: he did something to deserve it. Bobby appeared the same, although he chose to keep his mouth shut this time. The brothers knew how to comfort each other.

Tipping the older's chin to catch his gaze, Sam spoke firmly, "You didn't do anything for Dad to hit you, Dean." Dean's mouth opened to object, but Sam gave him a look that said otherwise. "Besides, spending Christmas will be more fun at Bobby's, yeah?" He earned another shrug, with the dark blond playing with a string on his pajama pants. The words he said had sunken in, and that's all Sam wanted.

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Dean struggled to pull on his boots, before managing and making a satisfied sound in his throat. Sammy had said they could go outside now, and the older was excited. He hadn't been outside since the snow had started, even though that wasn't too long ago. Outside, Dean could be himself and not have to worry about protecting Sammy, since he was usually at school. Sammy was smart, and held his own.

Getting Sammy to help with his jacket, Dean smiled brightly, green eyes sparkling with joy. The snow was perfect for making snowmen and angels with, and that's what he planned to do. Sammy was gonna play outside too. A snowball fight was in order.

Once they were both dressed and ready to go, Sammy and Dean headed into the cold outdoors. The sky was a frosty winter blue, with clouds floating towards the south. News said it was going to snow some more, just in time for the holidays. Snow still fell, only light as the air it rode on, and Dean opened his mouth to catch some. It didn't taste like anything, only water. Dean was a little disappointed.

Snow molded beneath their boots, and even though Dean's legs were shaky, he made it towards the middle of the yard. Laying on his back, the older made a snow angel, moving his legs and arms up and down. When he grew tired, Dean sat up and smiled proudly at his snow angel. It looked nice.

Giggling to himself, Dean not-so-subtly formed a snowball between his gloves. With them on, it didn't matter if his hands didn't work too well. It was just snow.

After the snowball was formed, Dean spotted his brother, the teen making building up the beginnings of a snowman. Throwing it the best he could, and it pelting Sammy in the back, Dean almost squealed in delight. That was _awesome._

Head snapping up from his work, Sammy narrowed his eyes playfully and grinned. Leaving his snowman behind, the teen formed a snowball, taking his time to see what Dean would do. It had been so, so long since they had done something like this.

Gasping, Dean ran clumsily towards the edge of the yard, soon hiding behind a small tree. Keeping quiet so Sammy didn't see him, the older pressed a glove to his mouth to muffle his laughter. Peaking around the tree, Dean soon reeled back when he saw Sammy trying to look for him. His little brother was never gonna find him.

Needless to say, Sammy soon did.

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***hides behind a curtain* I am so, so, so sorry for the horrendously long wait. High school swept me up and I haven't written in so long. But to break through the barrier, you lovely, loyal readers get one of the first updates in a long while. Thanks for all your reviews to last chapter, they kept me wanting to write this story at every possible moment, however small the moments were. **


	11. Author's Note!

**Hello! I've finally come back to this story, and I have no means of abandoning it at all, as I love, love, love writing it! It's just, I lose inspiration and motivation quickly, and personal life (school, family, etc.) gets in the way. The purpose of this note is just to say that hopefully over the summer I'll have more time to actually sit down and write. I promise: I won't leave this story unfinished.**


	12. Chapter 12

**I'm so sorry for almost a year long wait. I had a huge project for 9 months that I constantly worked on, along with some family problems in the way as well. But, I think I'm getting back into the swing of things! Also, thank you to everyone who's been kind and patient for this wait. :D**

**Just fyi, Dean's still a little regressed from the last few chapters. But around Christmas (the next couple chapters ahead) he'll be back to normal. :)**

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"See? You're sick. Your temp's 101," Sam remarked, holding up the thermometer for Dean to see. His stubborn brother refused to admit he was sick, saying that he was just tired. It had taken Sam an hour to get Dean to even take some ibuprofen for his headache. Every Winchester seemed to be stubborn...damnably so.

Dean sniffled and rubbed his snotty nose against his sleeve, much to Sam's dismay, "I not sick, Sammy." He was a big boy. Big boys didn't get sick...even if Dean's whole body hurt and he couldn't stop sneezing and coughing. But he _wasn't sick._

"That's why I told you to take off your wet clothes yesterday, and you didn't listen to me," Sam reprimanded, "Even Bobby told you to." Dean had almost thrown a tantrum when Sam told him to take off his Batman t-shirt that he wore until his winter jacket when they played out in the snow yesterday. It was his favorite shirt, after Sam had bought it for him last year at a sale. It was tattered at the bottoms and the insignia of a bat was faded, but Dean still loved the thing to death. Sometimes called it his "Sammy shirt." That made the younger Winchester's chest feel tight and he usually had to take a few minutes to himself to gain his composure.

Already overly-rosy cheeks becoming slightly more hot pink, Dean looked down at the floor and sniffled again, snot dripping from his nose once again until Sam wiped it away with a tissue. "I-I sorry, Sammy...I listen next time."

"I hope so, Dean. Now, get some sleep, okay?" Sam encouraged, laying Dean down on the bed with a few blankets and the heater on nearby. He put a glass of water on Dean's nightstand, in case he was thirsty. "You need to get some rest if you wanna feel better."

Dean let out a small whine and sniffled, "I want Sammy." He wanted his little brother to be near him, since he felt disgusting and Dean hated being alone when he was ill.

Without protest, Sam didn't say anything as he laid down beside Dean, letting the shorter wrap around him like a scared child clinging to a teddy bear. Despite his temperature being so high, Dean was freezing and Sam tried to warm him up the best he could with blankets, the old heater in the corner, and body heat. "I'm not gonna leave, dude...you'll be fine," Sam reassured. He needed to get everything sorted out before Christmas. He wanted to surprise Dean with another present. Dean needed something more to cheer him up nowadays, even if he always seemed happy.

Dean rarely was ever in a terrible mood, unless he was sick, tired, or someone had said something about Sam. The younger Winchester can recall a time his freshman year of high school, when some kids picked on him for his torn jeans and hand-me down clothes. Even if Dean couldn't walk more than a few steps without nearly tripping...he gave those bullies a beating like no other. And he didn't even feel sorry afterwards like he normally did.

Green eyes filled up with tears and Dean coughed into his shirt, "Sammy promise not to leave? I want Sammy. _My_ Sammy." Sam was _his_ and no one else's. Dean made sure of that, or so he thought.

A bit taken aback by Dean's sudden possessiveness, Sam blinked before merely nodding, "Yeah...I'm not leaving, okay? You sure you want me to stay?"

"Mhmm."

"Okay."

And that was that. Soon Dean fell asleep, coughing every so often and resting his head against Sam. There didn't seem to be any signs of nightmares or anything else to terrify Dean, much to Sam's thankfulness. The taller's mind drifted off as he tried to fall asleep but failed. The bed felt too hard, the noise outside too loud, and Dean's breath on his neck too warm. Laying underneath the covers with Dean curled up beside him, Sam started to think and ponder.

He wondered if Mary would be proud of him for taking care of Dean.

He wondered if she would've still been with John if they survived but Dean was the same as he was now. Would John still hurt the both of them?

Needless to say...Sam didn't have the answer to either questions for himself.

Mary was a kind, loving woman with a love for her sons more than anything else in the world. She would be proud of Sam for taking care of Dean when no one else would've besides Bobby. And she would be proud of the person Sam was becoming: intelligent, kind, resourceful, and determined to make life better. The only problem was there was no way of communicating with her at the moment...or any moment in the upcoming future.

All Sam had was the knowledge that she loved them. And that was enough.

More than enough.

So, as Sam tried to drift off into the realm of sleep, he thought about life and all of its' wonders. Including the person laying beside him.


End file.
